Somewhere
in my heart, a lone drum beats.The
thunder of its spirit rages in the crimson rivers.Memories
long cloaked by the mists of forgetfulness,led
to ages of shadow and atonementfor
I had promised never to forget.

Wars
of the future are not wars of the pastand
I am no longer innocent.I cannot
return to the darknessfor
along the corridors of awarenesswalks
a pure Amazon spiritexisting
in the dreams of my soul.

A Warrior
of the ancient erasShe
listened to the lamenting earth mothercalling
to her daughters for remembrance.A circle
of sisters formed to right the wrongsTheir
strength, honor, and couragehad
restored the hope of the land.

As long
as the lion's roar is heard on the wind,The
Nation's drum will never be still.They
will summon the ancient sleeping spiritswhen
the dark clouds of storm and torment brew.A vow,
their sacred promise thatthe
Amazons will rise to fight again.

Keeping
the traditions of our ancestorsI receive
you, my Amazon spirit.I honor
your sacrifices untold.It is
time for us to experiencewhat
we thought we had forgotten.We know,
we join one to the other,Our
hearts beating as one.

I lift
my eyes to the eastern horizon.My voice
sings out in welcome to my sisters,Spirits
of the Amazons, women of the circle.Listen,
I beg you, to the beat of the drum.Let
light of my campfire guide youhome.